


vetus amicus

by krtrs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Character Study, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), i just wanted to talk about pestilence, listen, thats the only reason i wrote this, this is so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 23:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krtrs/pseuds/krtrs
Summary: “You’re a terrible demon.”“And you’re not the best Horseman,” the terrible demon replied in turn.





	vetus amicus

She wasn’t what one would expect. No pained limp, no wretched grimace, no rotten black skin. She wasn’t a towering figure, looming in the darkness, but she wasn’t grey and old, hunched with the weight of the things she had done.

She looked fifteen at most. With snow-white hair draped clumsily down her back, she wore a yellow sundress and a soft smile. She was the spitting image of innocence. The only thing to possibly indicate she was anything but good and pure were her eyes, which donned a sickly green colour and tended to glow ever so slightly in the dark.

She hadn’t been seen by angel nor demon since sometime around the late nineteenth century. And yet, here she was roaming around Crowley’s garden, reaching for leaves as she passed and laughing when the bees danced around her head.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She froze as the demon spoke. Her grin widened even more if that were possible.

“Mr Crowley!” She exclaimed, spinning around to greet him. He was leant against the doorframe, wearing a long white collared-shirt, most likely not out of his own closet, and boxers. His sunglasses rested atop his mussed up hair. He must have just woken up. “I knew I’d find you here.”

“I happen to live here,” he quipped.

“Right, with your angel? This place is so lovely, I can see why you two picked it. The beach is nice.”

Crowley nodded, face twisting up like he’d tasted something sour. Her physical appearance did nothing to deter his anxieties.

“You know, I went to a beach once in Madagascar and met this wonderful old lady. She was selling papayー”

“What do you want, Pestilence?” He interrupted. She’d always had a habit of rambling. He took a single step back.

Deflating a bit, she turned her gaze to a nearby amaryllis plant. “Can I not visit an old friend?”

She stretched out her hand to gently brush a wilted petal. It sprung up cheerily, vibrant as ever and very much alive.

“Yes, well, nice seeing you again. Goodbye.” Crowley moved to leave. He need not speak to any supernatural beingーother than Aziraphale, of courseーfor any longer than he possibly had to, he thought.

“Is it true what they’re saying about the end of the world?” She stopped him. “Did you really prevent it?”

“I had some help,” Crowley muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The angel?”

“And the Antichrist.”

After a moment of thought, she spoke again. “You’re a terrible demon.”

“And you’re not the best Horseman,” the terrible demon replied in turn.

The girl giggled, rocking back onto her bare heels. “No, I suppose I’m not.”

“Hell’s been looking all over for you,” Crowley said, trying and failing to relax. She didn’t seem to be there to harm anyone, but no one can truly blame a demon for their suspicious nature.

“I don’t work for Hell. Or Heaven,” she spoke proudly. “Not anymore.”

“Yes, but you’re still working, I see,” Crowley jabbed, thinking about the many diseases that wrecked humanity since Pestilence’s alleged retirement. There was AIDS throughout the world, Cholera in Zimbabwe and Hispaniola. Influenza continued to make its way around, and cancer still had no surefire cure.

The small girl stiffened, her aura flaring out erratically, _angrily_. 

And then there she was. Thin dark hair and greying skin. Torn, stained nurse gown. A rusty scalpel gripped in her bony hand. She looked exhausted. This was how the books wrote her, how the vicars warned of her, how the doctors feared the idea of her. This was utterly, incurably Sick. And it affected everything in its path.

The plants around her dropped in an instant, the bugs stuttered in flight, and the air smelled of harsh disinfectants. For only a split second, she allowed her full force to seep into the world.

With a deep breath, she pulled herself back, returning the garden to the state it had been before. The plants jumped back to life, and the bees bumbled into the air. She shifted back to the simple, clean look she preferred. Crowley just stood there, attempting not to shake in his snakeskin boots. 

“Accidents can happen,” the girl said, clenching and unclenching her fist. She sounded defeated.

It was then Crowley realised that this was no monster before him, no matter how she appeared. This was a tired and lonely kid. This was someone who’d spent their existence causing pain to anyone they came in contact with, even without meaning to. Someone who loved humanity as Aziraphale did, as he himself did.

He remembered all the times he’d been sent to fetch her, to inform her of a new job she’d been assigned. He recalled the slouch of her shoulders when he passed on the news of the Black Death, the sigh for Smallpox, the frown for Yellow Fever, and the outright tears for Tuberculosis. _It wasn’t fair_, she’d said. _Why do they have to suffer so much?_

She didn’t enjoy her job like the other Horsemen. She never had. And now she had quit, now she was happy. What right did he have to point out her failings?

“Of course,” Crowley agreed, because she was right. When he got upset, he made lightbulbs explode. The girl took another deep breath through her nose, gathering herself. After a moment, she smiled radiantly again. Crowley uncrossed his arms. “So if you’re not Pestilence anymore, who are you? What do you do?”

“I’m Penny,” she said blissfully, “and I do as I please.”

“Crowley? Coffee’s ready,” a voice rang through the cottage.

“Is that your angel?”

He nodded quickly before shouting back, “Be there in a minute!”

“You two are like me. You’re on your own,” Penny mused. A stray bee landed on her nose. It tickled and she sneezed. Crowley stifled a laugh.

“Well, Penny, what do we do now? Now that we’re on our own?” He asked, folding his hands in front of him. He glanced through the doorway.

“You _live_,” she said, green eyes shining just a bit brighter than before.

“Dear?” The voice inside called again. He was closer this time, heading towards the garden.

Penny giggled softly and Crowley sent an apologetic smile her way.

“Go get him, tiger.” And then she was gone.

The back door opened. “Crowley, dear, who were you talking to?”

Crowley turned, beaming just slightly. “An old friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! don't be scared to leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!!
> 
> -karter <3


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